


Quid Mea Tua Sunt

by softiebee



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Trope Challenge [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge, College, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Rachel! (Adam's Cool Study Buddy), Sharing Clothes, Trent! (Adam's Aggressively Preppy Roommate), featuring:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8214700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softiebee/pseuds/softiebee
Summary: KISS ME I'M IRISH





	

**Author's Note:**

> from the prompt: clothes sharing
> 
> this is a work of fiction. all characters belong to maggie steifvater and the raven cycle series.

Adam’s roommate was _loud_. 

Not just in the way he talked, but in the way he carried himself. The habit he had of letting the door hit the wall when he opened it. Everything about him crowded Adam’s thoughts. It was good that he was out so often, that he was out now. Adam had no idea where he went, but he was sure that if Ronan met him, he might refuse to talk to him at all and spend the entire time he was visiting in stony silence.

It was hard to think about Ronan lately without thinking about distance. Ronan was actually using his phone now that Adam was at college; he texted bad pictures of Opal and Chainsaw, and commentary on the state of the Barns, and sometimes, when Adam had been away for long enough, he could talk Ronan into making the larger sacrifice to video call for a few hours. It was hard to think of Ronan _now_ , when he would be here in a day, not even that, without thinking about distance.

Adam leaned over to his closet, pulling a shirt of Ronan’s from the folded stack in a box on the floor. It read _KISS ME, I’M IRISH_ \- a joke gift from Henry before they left - and it still smelled like the Barns. He pushed his nose into the sleeve and breathed in, closing his eyes, and went back to his desk with Ronan in his lungs.

-

When Adam woke up the next morning, Trent was sitting on his bed, tying his shoes. 

“Morning,” he offered, and Adam mumbled a greeting into his palm. “I’m going running. Got classes today?” Adam shook his head. Trent looked delighted. “Sick! You deserve a day off, man. Treat yourself.” He stood and clapped Adam’s shoulder in the way of a proud father. 

“Hey, Trent-” Adam pulled himself up into a sitting position. “Ronan is coming today.”

“Friend of yours? That’s chill, bro. I’ll be out of the room for a definite bit. Catch you later!” 

Before Adam could respond, the door slammed, and the echo of Trent’s running shoes faded down the hall. He let himself fall back onto the pillows, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub sleep from the corners. The sleeve of his shirt fell back onto his chin, and the reality of it hit him - _Ronan was coming today._

What if he was already here? Ronan had made the drive to Princeton in one night before, during Adam’s first week; he had forgotten a textbook at the Barns and had called Ronan past midnight, panicked and pacing, and hours later Ronan had fallen asleep in his bed, textbook curled in his arms to keep Adam from staying awake. He reached out to check his phone for any missed texts or calls, but the screen was disappointingly empty, and his desk disappointingly full. 

With a sigh, Adam pulled himself fully out of bed, stifling a yawn. It was early, yes, and he could fill an entire day - an entire month - with work, but as it was, maybe he should treat himself for once. The cafeteria was less busy at this time of morning, but so was a small bakery on the corner, and opting for the latter would grant him drinkable coffee and a fresh muffin…

A minute later, Adam was pulling on jeans and a pair of shoes. Treat yourself. Okay, Trent. He exited the dorm, shivering pleasantly in the chilly autumn air, and started to walk. As predicted, the line at the bakery was short, and the smell of coffee enough to lift Adam out of his half-haze. He took a long sip from his card cup and started back to the dorm, paper bag clutched in one hand. A year ago, he would never have done this. A year ago, this kind of morning would have been a favor from Gansey. A year ago…

“Adam!”

He turned to see Rachel, a girl from his political science course who had become one of his avid study partners, waving at him, grocery bag swinging in one hand. Another thing that wouldn’t have happened a year ago. He waved back, waiting for her, and once she caught up, she burst into laughter.

“What?”

“Didn’t know you were Irish.”

“Oh.” Adam looked down, feeling the tips of his ears turn red. “I’m not. This is Ronan’s.”

“Ah, the boyfriend.” Rachel nodded sagely, still pink-cheeked. “Isn’t he coming to visit soon? He’s Irish? Can he play the bagpipes?”

“Yeah, today, actually.” He glanced back into the street, absently skimming over the cars in brief search of Ronan’s BMW. “And yes. I think.”

“You think he’s Irish or you think he can play the bagpipes?”

“The last one. He's definitely Irish.”

-

Six hours later, Adam was tapping a pencil against his open notebook and staring out his open window. Law was begging for his attention, but so was the busy street, and he was more inclined to look for Ronan’s car than anything else. There was a loud bang - door against wall, the indicator of Trent’s return - and Adam rubbed the bridge of his nose, turning around in his chair. 

“Fuck, it’s small in here.”

“ _Ronan!_ ” Before he even registered his presence, Adam was across the room, and Ronan was hugging him so tightly it was difficult to breathe. He breathed anyway; the smell of Ronan was stronger when it was actually Ronan that was carrying it, and Adam was running out of T-shirts. 

“Miss me, then?” Ronan sounded amused, but his arms tightened even further around Adam’s waist. Adam pulled back and reached up to kiss him. 

“No,” he muttered, and Ronan laughed quietly against his mouth. 

“Yeah, me either.”

Adam pulled back, forcing himself to have some form of restraint, and sat back in his desk chair. Ronan leaned agreeably against the wall, half-sprawled across Adam’s bed, and propped his legs up on Adam’s knees. 

“How are you?”

“How _am_ I? I haven’t seen you in a month and the best you can come up with is how _am_ I? Step up your game, Parrish.” Ronan’s mouth was teasing at a smile. Adam’s was hinting at a grin.

“Has Opal set the Barns on fire yet? Did you crash your car? Has Gansey been calling you? Because he’s been calling me non stop and he won’t stop talking about this documentary that Blue and Henry are making of their trip… Just tell me things. Talk at me for a few hours.”

“Talk at you?” Ronan quirked an eyebrow. “Steamy.”

But he did. For hours.

-

When Trent banged through the door, Adam was slouched so far down in his chair it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen out of it, and he and Ronan were surrounded by Chinese takeout boxes. 

“Hey, dude!” He greeted. Ronan’s eyes visibly tightened. “I’m Trent, Adam’s roommate. You must be Ronan, right? Adam said you were coming. What’s up?” Ronan smiled thinly and nodded, which seemed to be good enough for Trent, who continued, “Looks like you guys found Cheng’s. Sweet! That place is good eating. Did you order in?”

“Yeah, we did,” Adam responded before Ronan could. It looked like he was holding in a full battalion of rude phrases. “One of our friends’ last names is Cheng, so we figured-”

“Dude, yeah! You’re friends with someone who’s Chinese? Can he cook?”

Ronan opened his mouth, and Adam jabbed an elbow into his side.

“Actually, he’s Korean, and probably not.”

“Oh, okay.” Trent looked unfazed by the jabbing and by Ronan’s positively explosive appearance. “I’m going to head out again. Might not make it home tonight, if you know what I mean.” He winked and grabbed a jacket from his closet, closing the door behind him. Adam looked at Ronan, who was looking hard at the ceiling.

“That’s your roommate?”

“Yeah. He’s-”

“Full of shit.”

“Basically,” Adam sighed. “You get used to it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ronan grumbled, but lay down on his side, opening Adam’s computer. He glanced briefly at Adam, then took a longer look. “Is that my shirt?” Adam felt his ears heat. Ronan smirked. “Looks good on you.”

“I’m not Irish.”

“Jesus, don’t worry. I’ll kiss you anyway.”

-

The next morning found Adam tangled in his sheets. Ronan was sitting in his chair, rubbing a towel on his head, bare skin from the waist up. Rolling over onto his side, Adam took the opportunity to look at him, present, solid, breathing. 

“Take a picture. Lasts longer.”

“Maybe I will.” Adam raised his eyebrows. “Better than a shitty webcam.”

Ronan pushed his tongue into his cheek. “Trying to critique my methods?”

“Mm. No.” 

“Because I could drive up more often.”

It hurt Adam how much he wanted it, so he just shrugged and sat up, sheets sliding down his chest to pool in his lap. Ronan’s mouth fell open slightly, and Adam swallowed as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Ronan’s soft lips. It hurt Adam how much he wanted and wanted and wanted, hurt him now, even as Ronan was here, under his hands, smooth skin and charcoal lashes, so much that he had to check himself: _what are you wanting for?_

Ronan kissed his shoulder.

_What you have. What you have. What you have._

When they finally got dressed, Adam put on a very Gansey-like polo shirt, and Ronan somehow stretched his arms into Adam’s Princeton hoodie. It fit high on his stomach, but Adam felt something swell up in him when he saw it, so large that he had to duck his head. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Adam shook his head. “Just… that’s a good look for you.”

Ronan flashed him a lazy grin. “Everything is, babe.”

Adam took him to the bakery.

-

When Ronan was packing that afternoon - half of his clothes had managed to make it out of the bag and onto the floor, and the other half were crumpled - Adam picked up one of his shirts and folded it into the box in his closet.

“I could dream you some more,” Ronan said, without looking up. 

“Wouldn’t be the same,” Adam responded. 

-

When Adam was seeing him off, after a large amount of delays (read: Adam, trying to get past Trent without Ronan stepping on him; Ronan, trying to map Adam’s hands and throat with his mouth), he caught Ronan by the shoulder as he was ducking into his car.

“Is that my shirt?”

Ronan looked down. The Coca Cola logo looked back up at him. “Yeah.”

Adam bit his lip. “You could probably dream some.”

“Wouldn’t be the same.”

**Author's Note:**

> day 3 down!! i was genuinely worried that i wouldn't be able to post today (my computer was dead in the morning _and_ i got locked out of the house this afternoon) but i maaade ittttt  
>  next up (day 4): snowed in
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated! you can find me on tumblr at c-beswater.


End file.
